


Wanted

by Reyka_Sivao



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek - Various Authors
Genre: Canon Character of Color, F/F, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Pregnancy, Queer Families, Queer Themes, Star Trek: Dwellers in the Crucible - Margaret Wander Bonanno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyka_Sivao/pseuds/Reyka_Sivao
Summary: Alternate ending to Dwellers in the Crucible—what if Cleante WAS pregnant by Kalor?Mostly more book-flavor angsting about whether they LIKE-like each other.
Relationships: Cleante al-Faisal/T'Shael
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Wanted

Cleante paced the half-lit length of her borrowed quarters before forcing herself to go back and sit on the single bunk. Once, the room might have felt small and spartan, but after so long in captivity, it was unimaginably luxurious...and all too empty.

If only...but no. Either T’Shael would recover and come back to her, or she would not. Those were the only two options, and Cleante had already made her own desire as clear as was humanly possible.

_ Kaiidth, _ T’Shael would have told her in any other situation.  _ What is, is. This is the Mastery of the Inevitable. _

She was pacing again. She’d hardly even noticed getting up.

Cleante sighed and ran her hand absently down her belly, wondering.

She had asked Dr. McCoy not to tell her if she was pregnant. Maybe she wasn’t. But if she was…

Selfishly, she knew that T’Shael would feel responsible for that too. After all, if Cleante hadn’t offered herself to their Klingon captor to protect T’Shael’s life…but maybe, maybe T’Shael would feel it was her duty to at least find out.

The door buzzer rang, and Cleante’s heart leapt.

She hit the door release almost before the buzzer stopped. Light flooded into the dim room from the hallway, and with it…

“T’Shael,” she whispered, and it was all she could do not to run forward and bury herself in T’Shael’s arms.

The Vulcan woman was leaning heavily on the doorframe, but she was wearing the gifts Cleante had left for her: The rich purple of the top, and in her left ear, the single ruby earring of an unmarried woman.

“Cleante,” she said, not quite steadily. “May I enter?”

Cleante’s voice stuck in her throat and she couldn’t answer aloud. Instead, she held out both hands, palm up, a gesture almost as much of supplication as of welcome.

Hesitantly, T’Shael released her grip on the door frame and took a step into the dim room, letting the door close behind her. She couldn’t take her eyes off Cleante’s offered hands.

“I...can never repay what you have done for me.”

“I don’t want you to try.”

T’Shael wavered a little on her feet, and Cleante caught her by the hands to steady her.

The telepathic centers of T’Shael’s fingertips sparked to life between them. Both women stared for a moment down at their joined hands, but neither moved.

“Oh I….I forgot…” started Cleante. “I’m...sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

T’Shael drew her fingertips down Cleante’s palm with one hand, following the creases of her skin and tracing around the callouses that told the story of their hard labor in the prison camp. Cleante held still, afraid to break the moment.

“You carry Kalor’s child.”

It was so plainly stated that it took a moment for the words to reach Cleante’s consciousness. She swallowed. “Am I, then?”

T’Shael’s fingertips paused their exploration and she looked up in puzzlement. “You did not know?”

“I didn’t want to. Not until...not unless….I wanted you here.”

“I...am here.”

Cleante’s smile lit up her eyes. “You are. And now I know.”

“What do you wish to do?”

Cleante took a deep breath. “That….kind of depends on you.”

“On me?” said T’Shael with a slight frown. “In what way does your decision depend on me?”

“I...would like to keep it,” said Cleante hesitantly. “Raise it. Just….not alone.”

Their eyes met again, hope meeting my confusion. 

“T’Shael...have you ever wanted to be a mother?”

“I…” started T’Shael before swaying on her feet again. Cleante closed her hands around T’Shael’s wrists and carefully guided her to sit on the bunk. 

“I could never have risked passing on my father’s illness,” she answered after a moment. 

Cleante sat down beside her, still clasping her hands. “I know,” she said. “But what would you have  _ wanted? _ ” 

“There was no logic in considering what could not be.” She hesitated. “Therefore….I do not know.”

Cleante took a deep breath. “T’Shael, this isn’t a hypothetical. Maybe you don’t know what could have been—kaiidth!—but I need to know, right here, right now: Do you want to raise this child with me?”

T’Shael paused to give that due consideration. “It would not exist if it were not for me.”

“No….T’Shael, please. I don’t want to hear what your guilt says. I want to know what you  _ want _ .” 

There was a long pause, and it was Cleante who broke it again.

“I want to be very clear here--I’m not  _ asking  _ you to do anything at all. I’m  _ offering _ you something. Something you never could have had before. But that doesn’t mean you have to want it. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you don’t want it at all, maybe the thought of it being  _ his _ child is just too much. But I just...I need you to know that neither answer will change anything if you don’t want it to.”

“It would be a difficult thing,” said T’Shael slowly. “For many reasons.”

“I know.”

“And yet...I believe it would be worthwhile.”

“Is that what you  _ want _ ?”

T’Shael took another unsteady breath. “Yes,” she said, as though the words were hard to speak. “I….want...to raise this child with you, as though it were my own.”

Cleante’s hand tightened around T’Shael’s. “Please promise me you’re not just saying what you think I want to hear.”

“Vulcans do not lie.”

Cleante smiled a little. “Maybe not. But you’ve shown yourself to be very good at making yourself accept what was never inevitable.”

T’Shael was silent for a long moment, but she stared down at their still-joined hands and slowly resumed her gentle tracing of the lines of Cleante’s hands.

“I would join you in whatever you allowed my company,” she said finally. “That is what I wish.”

Cleante smiled again, but unshed tears shimmered in her eyes. 

T’Shael swayed again, and Cleante broke the connection between their hands to steady her.

“We can talk about it tomorrow. For now, you need rest.”

T’Shael made a move to stand up. “I should return to my quarters.”

“You said you wanted my company,” said Cleante. “Stay.” 

Cleante pulled back the covers and gestured for T’Shael to lie down. 

T’Shael hesitated, but this time only for a moment. “If you desire my company, then I desire yours.”

“And I do,” said Cleante emphatically. “I do.”

T’Shael slowly pulled herself toward the far side of the bunk, and held the covers up for Cleante to join her. 

“Computer, lights,” said Cleante, and the darkness wrapped them together as they lay there, together.


End file.
